


Save Me

by hiddenbookshop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenbookshop/pseuds/hiddenbookshop
Summary: The bit of parchment fell from his pale shaking fingers at the same moment the cell door was blasted from its hold. He didn’t hesitate. He ran.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is from around 2011. I did not edit it at all. I apologize in advance.

Now.

The bit of parchment fell from his pale shaking fingers at the same moment the cell door was blasted from its hold. He didn’t hesitate. He ran. His heart was pounding in his ears. So loud that he briefly worried that his drums might burst.

The halls were eerily empty but he could hear muffled shouts and bangs nearby. He didn’t dare slow. His bare feet slapped loudly on the stone floor of the manor. The manor that he had once called home but he now was desperately trying to escape. He was, quite literally, running for his life.

Two doors down a cloaked figure stepped out, blocking his path. A sickening moment passed, the figure raised his wand, pointed it directly at his chest. A dark purple light shot past Draco’s side, scorching the dirty ripped rag that was once a shirt. The Death Eater crumpled, swiftly turning into a simmering pile of ash. The heavy thudding of a metal boot against stone barely registered to the former Slytherin’s shock and exhaustion addled mind. A thick hand clamped down on his bone-thin shoulder and a whirling eye and hard face stepped into view.

Run.

Mad-Eye’s mouth made the word, however no sound accompanied it. Draco stood cemented; staring wide eyed at what had once been Gregory Goyle. It was an odd sort of irony that Greg had used that same curse just days ago on a captive Theodore Nott when he had refused to participate in one of Draco’s daily beatings. After everything, it was hard to picture either boy as they had been before this. Housemates turned warriors, one deflecting to the light, the other relishing in the dark.

“GO!”

Moody gave him a harsh shove, Draco stumbled at the force before convincing his feet to move. Just a few more meters and he could reach the antique vase that hid his portkey to safety. He passed a crack door, light spilling into the hall. His parents stood back to back against order members. His father was shooting curses at a thin red haired Weasley. His mother, however, was facing the unwavering tip of her sister’s wand.

Andromeda’s hand was steady and her face hard. She would show no mercy. Narcissa had watched her husband be tortured, stood by as Sirius was cursed into the veil, and had taken Nymphadora’s life with the metamorphmagus’ own wand. No, she would not hesitate. As the sisters raised voices joined the roar of others, Draco ran. He shattered the vase and gripped the gold locket tightly.

In an instant he crashed to his knees. Sharp debris from the forest floor dug into his skin. He didn’t care. He was out.

She had done it. She had sent her Order and saved him. She had told him that she would.

In the dungeons, between the bouts of unconsciousness, when the hunger and pain would leak back in, he guiltily admitted, he had doubted her words. She had done it, though. The storm brewing overhead couldn’t even dampen the overwhelming relief he felt at that moment.

The clouds cracked open with a loud clap. Freezing droplets splashed against his closed eyelids, its chill grounding his very soul. Freedom. He was free. Draco tipped his face up to meet the glow of the moon. It had been months since he had seen the sky. He took deep breaths relishing in the clean crisp smell of fresh rain. A swift wind diluted the scent with another.

Vanilla.

Maybe a hint of honey.

Draco didn’t even need to open his eyes to know who stood before him, her soft fingers tracing his skin, searching for damage. Hermione. He relished in her scent, her touch, and her warmth when she launched herself at him, gripping at his soaked locks. He crushed her to his chest, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her hair curtaining him off from the storm.

She had done it. She had gotten him out.

Months of torture, solitude, and starvation, it was all worth it. Feeling her soft curves fit against his hard angles, it was definitely worth it.

She was worth it. She was his freedom.


End file.
